Fair Play
by LadyDivine91
Summary: Blaine has a crush on the head cheerleader from another school, so he does something kind of desperate to get his attention. Will pretending to be team captain for one game work out the way he hopes it will? Klaine. Kurt H. Blaine A.


**Notes:**

 **Okay, I'll admit I cheated on this one. It's another re-write. My brain is Swiss cheese, and it's been very difficult for me to think. But aside from that, as a person who has lived in the shadow of an older sibling who was always a few grades ahead of me, I have always been intrigued by the possibility of this dynamic between Blaine and Cooper. Plus, I love this story line. So, I hope you enjoy it.**

"Please, Cooper?" Blaine begged, bearing down on his brother as the older boy tried to avoid him. "It's just this _one_ game."

"I said _no_ , Blaine!" Cooper veered toward the parking lot in hopes of losing his annoying sibling amidst the rows of cars. "You just made varsity this summer. You don't have the stones to play team captain, even for one game!"

"It's a scrimmage! No big deal!" Blaine whined, keeping pace with Cooper from one aisle of cars over. "Carter did it last year when his folks came down from Michigan!"

"They were getting a divorce."

"Wes did it! And Jensen did it the year before that! It's practically a Dalton tradition!"

Cooper shook his head in defiance, but Blaine was right. Hell, Cooper had tried it his sophomore year, trying to impress a girl from Crawford Country Day. The majority of boys who try to front as team captain do it to impress a girl. No harm in that. But Cooper swore as team captain he wouldn't cave to ridiculous requests, and this one was about as ridiculous as they got.

"Why would you want to pretend to be captain of the lacrosse team for a lousy scrimmage anyway? There's probably only going to be twelves of people in the stands. Leading the team to victory for this one? It's not like it's going to make you a lacrosse God or something."

"I … have my reasons," Blaine replied, his voice dropping.

"And I haven't heard any of them. I mean, come _on_! You want me to go against one of my principle tenets of leadership and you won't even tell me _why_? That's not right, Squirt. We may be brothers, but we're also teammates. And I thought we were _friends_."

"We … we _are_ friends! Coop, I …" Blaine cut himself off, waiting until he'd caught up with Cooper so he wouldn't have to yell across the cars when he told him his secret. "It's because … we're playing against McKinley."

"Yeah? So? They've only had a lacrosse team for about three years, and they _suck_. They suck _hard_. Why would you even want to …?" Cooper stopped short, a devilish grin overtaking his entire face. "Oh, I know what this is about!" He turned on his brother, jabbing his index finger accusingly at his chest. "It's their head cheerleader, isn't it? That guy … uh … Kevin! No, not Kevin. Kirk!"

" _Kurt_ ," Blaine corrected, his voice going dreamy as he sighed the name. Cooper rolled his eyes. _Oh God_. It seemed that puberty had finally caught up to his little brother. It wouldn't be any skin off Cooper's nose to let Blaine do it. The odds of anyone in the stands knowing the difference was negligible at best. But he deliberated, searching his brain for a reason to say no. Blaine was his baby brother, after all. Cooper couldn't let the guys on the team think he was doing him special favors because he was family.

But then Cooper realized, he couldn't care less either way.

Let Blaine try to woo his cheerleader. Win or lose, this could be amusing to watch.

"Fine." Cooper grabbed the shoulder of Blaine's jersey and led his starry-eyed brother to the field. "But you know you're going to owe me. Big time. This is _my_ reputation on the line here."

"It's a scrimmage," Blaine huffed, "against the worst team in the high school league. I would say that _you_ owe _me_."

Blaine followed Cooper to the Dalton side of the field. Spectators had started filling the stands, but huge gaps took up more space than actual bodies. Cooper was right. Barely anyone came to scrimmages, and the ones who did were killing time till later when the after parties would get underway.

Cooper motioned to the boys warming up and running drills on the grass. "Fall in, guys. Come on. Fall in, fall in," he said, bringing his team in for a huddle. "Alright, gentlemen, we're going to be changing things up for today's scrimmage. In the grand tradition of Dalton boys who've ever wanted to bang an away team cheerleader, Blainey here" – Cooper put heavy hands on his brother's shoulders and shook him like a rag doll – "will be taking over as team captain. Let's try and make him look good. If he manages to get himself laid, drinks are on him."

One boy bitched about nepotism being expressly against the Dalton Academy charter, but the rest of the team hollered, clapping Blaine on the shoulder and making suggestive remarks about the inadequacy of his ball and stick handling as they retreated to the locker rooms to suit up. They passed through the parking lot as the McKinley buses rolled onto the asphalt. Blaine dropped back, walking slowly and peeking over the cars to see if he could catch a glimpse of the cheerleaders' bus. It was a long shot that the varsity cheerleaders would even be there. Sometimes only the JV cheerleaders accompanied the lacrosse team on away games.

The varsity Cheerios were National Champions, and the McKinley lacrosse team was _that_ bad.

No need to send rock stars to cheer on a sinking ship.

The guys caught Blaine lagging and grabbed him. They surrounded him, dragging him through the parking lot, not giving him a chance for any further investigation.

"You … you jerks!" Blaine grunted, trying to pull away, but four boys had him, one on each limb, and that was enough to subdue him.

"Calm your tits, Anderson," one of the seniors said. "Your cheerleader's here."

After that, Blaine gave up the struggle. That was all he needed to hear.

* * *

When the Dalton team came back out onto the field, geared up and ready to play, the McKinley team was already there, gathered in a huddle, talking over their plays. The cheerleaders had assembled on the sidelines, some of them stretching, some practicing cheers. In the middle, helping a junior cheerleader thread red and white ribbon curls into her high pony, stood Kurt. He looked as miraculous in his formfitting uniform today as he did the first time Blaine saw him, at their first Dalton/McKinley scrimmage, which took place at McKinley High last season. Ever since then, Blaine's had been a long distance infatuation. He followed the cheerleading blogs, signed up for a fake student account on the McKinley website so he could view the team's student access only webpage, and went to every cheerleading competition he could in order to cheer Kurt on. Blaine stalked Kurt on every form of social media, sending him anonymous messages on Tumblr and poking him on Facebook. And when Kurt's boyfriend of two years broke up with him, Blaine 'liked' his Facebook status and silently cheered, hoping that this was the year he might get his chance.

Blaine had to come up with a gesture, something _big_ to win Kurt over, but first, he had to make sure that Kurt knew he was alive. Being team captain was part one of that master plan. (There wasn't really a part two. After Cooper's initial 'being a member of the Dalton lacrosse team is an honor and a privilege' speech, where he outlined that under no circumstances would any player be receiving preferential treatment no matter who they were or how well they played, Blaine didn't think he'd get this far.)

But it didn't matter, since it didn't seem to be doing the trick. Even when the Dalton team took to the field and the announcer went through the team roster, mentioning that Blaine would take the place of team captain for the scrimmage, Kurt barely looked his way, deeply embroiled in a discussion with two other cheerleaders over the correct way to land a round off-whip-double back handspring-layout, a move that Kurt demonstrated so effortlessly, so flawlessly, Blaine couldn't keep his eyes off him.

Blaine didn't know how much Kurt was paying attention during the actual game, but the opposing team figured out fairly early on that Blaine was distracted, and he became their main target - a critical failing of McKinley's team. But the majority of their lacrosse team was made up of football players after McKinley's 'acting principal' disbanded the football team in order to redistribute football funds to the cheerleading squad. No one knew the whole story. Most people assumed it was a joke. Regardless, the Dalton team readjusted their strategy, and it eventually worked to their advantage.

Blaine wanted to keep an eye on Kurt, to see if Kurt was watching him, or just to watch Kurt flip, which Blaine could do all day, but he had to keep his head in the game or he was going to make a bigger ass of himself than he had already. He only saw Kurt in snippets and side-glances, cheering for his team, one time performing a jump split that almost stopped Blaine in his tracks. The next time Blaine got a chance to look Kurt's way, there was a guy standing beside him. Blaine didn't know if Kurt knew the guy. He wasn't wearing Dalton or McKinley colors. From what Blaine could tell, Kurt didn't seem very comfortable around him. The boy introduced himself, and Kurt nodded politely. The boy talked to him, and Kurt took a few steps away. Then Kurt excused himself, going back to his bag for a water bottle, and while the other cheerleaders formed a pyramid, the boy grabbed Kurt. He put a hand over Kurt's mouth and dragged him toward the bleachers. Dalton had control of the ball when Blaine saw, but whether they did or not, it only took him a second to decide what to do.

"Time out!" he screamed. "Time out! I'm calling a time out!"

" _Dalton Academy has called for a time out_ ," the announcer said over the sound system, then continued to jabber on about how this was their first time out, what the score was, and yada-yada-yada. Blaine didn't care. He'd stopped listening, zeroing in on the boy with his hands all over Kurt.

"Blaine!" he heard Cooper yell. "You can't call a time out _now_!" but Blaine was already running across the grass towards the far bleachers.

The McKinley cheerleaders knew Blaine had a thing for Kurt. They'd been teasing Kurt about it for most of the game, which was why he had drifted away from the pack - to escape the persistent jokes for a while. When the giggling girls saw Blaine coming, face set as stone, eyes seething, they realized that Kurt wasn't with them. They fanned out along the sidelines, looking for their missing captain. A brunette cheerleader found him and his attacker. She grabbed at the larger boy's shoulders and shoved him. He stumbled forward, but didn't let go. He had a firm hold on Kurt's waist, and took Kurt down to the grass with him.

"Get off of me!" Kurt screamed, spinning around and getting in a right hook that made Blaine wince, both for the impact to the boy's jaw _and_ Kurt's fist. "Let go of me!"

One of the other cheerleaders kicked the boy in the side while another tried to pry Kurt up, but the boy on the ground was too massive for any of it to be effective.

The people in the bleachers were too far away or too preoccupied to see the attack going on, but other players on the field began to take notice. One exceedingly tall boy (whom Blaine had heard referred to as 'Frankenteen' by one of his teammates) bellowed, "Kurt! Oh my God! Kurt!" from the field behind them.

"Hey! Butt wipe!" Blaine yelled, throwing down his stick. "Let him go!"

The boy on the ground looked past Kurt a fighting in his arms to Blaine standing over them and chuckled. "Or _what_ , prep school?"

Blaine didn't say. He simply walked up to the boy and planted his cleated heel into the boy's crotch. The boy, wearing sweat pants, wailed in pain. He reached for his groin and Kurt took the opportunity to bolt from his arms.

"Or _that_ ," Blaine said, more sadistic than smug, as he stood and waited for the boy to stand, or for an official, a coach, or a referee to come out and do something. Blaine could have left it at that. He could have walked Kurt away and let the officials take over, but then the boy on the ground sat up, and he had to open his big, dumb mouth.

"You can have the fucking slut," he grumbled through gritted teeth. "He's not worth it."

That's the moment when any shred of Blaine's good judgment flew straight out the window and he slugged the boy in the nose with the force of seven years of boxing and three years of Dalton Fight Club behind it.

"Holy fuck!" the boy screamed, hands cupping his face, blood dribbling past his palms and down his chin.

Ironically, _that's_ when the adults took action. In about half-a-second after Blaine's punch, the officials and the referees made a ruling.

" _Acting team captain for Dalton Academy Blaine Anderson has been disqualified for un-sportsman-like behavior!_ "

The stadium roared, spectators from both sides who had witnessed the scuffle on their feet when the announcement was made. The McKinley cheerleaders rushed the officials' box, both teams converged on the referees, everyone vying for a reversal of the call considering the circumstances. But Blaine knew it wouldn't happen. He'd gone a step too far, and there was nothing he could do about it.

But he wasn't going to apologize. No frickin' way.

Blaine didn't hear anything else. He didn't look to see what was happening. He knew that Kurt was with his team and safe, and that was all that mattered. Aside from that, he didn't want to be there anymore. He picked up his stick and walked off the sidelines, feeling the eyes of the school, the crowd, and _Kurt,_ watch him go.

Blaine walked straight back to the locker room and started to undress. He packed his uniform in his gear bag, deciding he'd wait to take his shower at home. He didn't want to stick around. He should probably just leave his gear there. He blew it this time. Not only did he not win the guy, he was going to get tossed from the team for sure.

And knowing his brother, he'd be hand-washing jock straps all weekend long to boot.

Somewhere between putting his sneakers on and starting to tighten them, he heard a throat cleared. He assumed it was Cooper, fresh off the field to mock him and tell him what for, rib him for throwing his high school lacrosse career away for a guy he didn't even get. It would be dubbed 'a classic Blaine maneuver' from now on. Anyone who screwed up in anyway anyhow trying to get a date will be said to have _pulled a Blaine_.

And he had a whole year of hearing that to look forward to.

But Blaine didn't have time to mope about that because he had bigger issues ahead. Without lacrosse, Blaine would have to search out other extracurriculars, like yearbook, or photography. Maybe stamp club was looking for a president, provided they were willing to have a loser of his caliber head their organization. But he needed something to pad his NYU application since lacrosse was off the table. The Warblers would be next after word got out. This isn't a Warbler activity, but they have a morals clause. If he is caught displaying behavior unbefitting a Warbler at any time, he could be expelled.

Blaine had read the Warbler bylaws from cover to cover. Fighting was considered a one-strike offense.

He'd figure something out. He just didn't want to figure it out _now_ , and not with Cooper's inevitable sarcastic excuse for help. Cooper was his only brother, so he should be sympathetic, but Blaine always got the feeling that Cooper thought he existed solely for his amusement.

"Look, Coop" - Blaine kept his head lowered as he tied his shoes so he wouldn't have to see the _I told you so_ grin on Cooper's conceited face - "whatever you're going to say, save it. I'm not in the mood for your crap."

"I was going to say thank you."

Blaine's eyes snapped up. It wasn't Cooper … thank _God_! Blaine smiled, surprised to see Kurt standing in the doorway. "Hey."

"Hey," Kurt said, stepping into the locker room. He had his red-and-white cheer duffle thrown over his shoulder, and he favored his right hand, which was wrapped in an Ace bandage. "I wanted to talk to you, but you left so quickly."

"Being disqualified will do that to you." Blaine tried to sound bitter but failed with this handsome cheerleader's beautiful blue eyes gazing at him with admiration.

"They're still discussing that, actually. The game's a wash, but after all the people who rushed the field to vouch for you, you might get off with a warning."

"Yeah?" Blaine felt relieved, not that helping Kurt wasn't worth getting disqualified over. It totally was, but it was nice to know that so many people went to bat for him … which probably meant Cooper did, too.

Shoot. Now he owed him _two_.

"I just came by to … I wanted to … you know, thank you, for coming to my rescue."

"You're welcome." Blaine let himself feel hopeful, but not too carried away. "But you don't have to thank me. That guy was an ass. He got what he deserved."

"And then some." Kurt chuckled, thinking back on the boy lying in the grass with his hands over his nose, blood pouring out like a geyser.

"No." Blaine stood and took a step up to Kurt with anger simmering behind his eyes. "No, he got _exactly_ what he deserved. No less."

Kurt bit his lower lip and nodded, taken back by Blaine's conviction.

"Anyway," Kurt said, "I thought that maybe since you forfeited a scrimmage to help me out, I might introduce myself. You know, _properly_."

"Uh, sure. Okay." Blaine held his right hand out for Kurt to shake, mildly uncomfortable now that the time had come for him to tell the truth. "I'm Blaine Anderson. I begged my brother Cooper to let me be captain for the scrimmage so that maybe you would notice me."

"And it worked." Kurt reached for Blaine's hand, but at the sight of the bandage, he switched, shaking Blaine's hand awkwardly with his left. "I'm Kurt Hummel. I spent the last hour or so watching you get your ass handed to you, and I wanted to know if maybe you'd consider getting coffee with me?"

"Don't you have to go back with your bus?" Blaine asked, mentally kicking himself right after for not saying the words, _"Yes! I'd love to!"_ instead.

"Well, I _am_ head cheerleader," Kurt said, rocking back and forth on nervous feet. "I can pretty much do whatever I want."

Blaine liked the sound of that, since doing whatever he wanted might include dating a member of an opposing team.

"Yeah," Blaine said, tossing the last of his stuff into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Good," Kurt said, taking Blaine's arm when he offered it. "I didn't want to think you were stalking me on Facebook because you were some run-of-the-mill creeper."


End file.
